


A Little Light Relief

by elaine



Category: Hope and Glory
Genre: M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-24
Updated: 2013-11-24
Packaged: 2018-01-02 11:50:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1056415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elaine/pseuds/elaine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ian George is in need of a little light relief. Fortunately, he has a friend who's willing to provide it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Little Light Relief

**Author's Note:**

> Hope and Glory was a short lived British TV show set in a school. Ian George was played by Lenny Henry. You don't really need to know any more than that, but here's the IMDB page:
> 
> http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0187647/?ref_=fn_al_tt_2

  

"Karl… he's a bright kid. Not a bad kid, he's just got an attitude…" Ian George was thinking aloud again. He stretched out, tipping his head back into the pillow and yawned uninhibitedly. "If only Keeley's parents..."

"Ian."

There was not the slightest response. "It's the race thing, of course. It always comes back to the race thing."

"Eeee-an." He stopped the slow caress and waited for Ian's dark eyes to turn towards him. "Pay attention. I might throw a surprise test afterwards, and if you can't remember anything, I'll be very annoyed." He gave Ian's thick, turgid cock a light slap just to reinforce the point.

Typically, once Ian's higher brain functions finally recognised that he was being seduced, his ability to talk regressed to that of a one-year-old. He made a quiet gurgling noise and subsided.

Good. He resumed his gentle stroking, resisting the urge to move too fast. Better to just enjoy the moment. With Ian, you never knew when one of those moments might come again. And he thought about the race thing. It didn't bother him, never had.

Well, obviously… or he wouldn't be here now. In fact, he admired the bitter chocolate skin, the café noir eyes that were watching him with expectant eagerness. Loved the big, solid body, firm and muscled where it needed to be, not that overdeveloped look that was such a gay stereotype. He smiled into those eyes, knowing that his face had become entirely too serious for a moment. Serious was not a good thing; not here, not now.

Ian's eyes were starting to glaze over slightly and he wrapped his fingers around the hardening shaft and began to work it in earnest. His fingers slid easily over the hot skin, slick with just a tiny smear of lube, and up over the loose foreskin, drawing it back. He pushed back the covers so he could see the dark, gleaming cockhead as he lightly massaged it. His own arousal was becoming acute, but he knew he could last for quite a while yet. He wasn't so sure about Ian. It had been a stressful week, he gathered. He was more than willing to supply a little light relief.

Of course it didn't hurt that the view was so very admirable. Ian's tastes in interior decoration were as colourful as his personality, but they were always bang on the mark. And they always seemed to complement his person as much as they did his personality. Tonight the bed linen was a deep golden yellow, the colour of daffodils, combined with accents in ochres and reds and blacks. In the midst of this glory Ian lay sprawled, accepting his advances with the unquestioning air of a god accepting the offerings of his worshippers.

He pondered that for a moment. It wasn't too far from the truth. It was this that brought him back, time after time, when his common sense told him to stay away. Ian, of course, would never see it. Ian was too wrapped up in his own concerns, and too self contained to imagine needing another person in this way or any other. That was part of the attraction, so it was no use regretting it, even though it meant he would never get everything he wanted, or needed, from this man.

Warning tremors started in the smooth, rounded belly and solid thighs. It was time to get busy. Ian's eyes were closed now and he was making involuntary sounds that he probably couldn't even hear. The condoms were close by, and the lube, as always. He reached for them. Ian's eyes snapped open at the sound of the wrapper being torn open and he smiled.

A special treat tonight, since it had been such a difficult week. Though whether the treat was for Ian or for him was moot. He didn't like to fool himself on this point. Of course Ian wanted it, but so did he. The trick was never to let Ian know how much he wanted it. Never give too much away… that had been his motto long before Ian came into his life.

He made sure the foreskin was completely retracted before rolling the condom on, then paused to enjoy the anticipation a moment longer. Ian waited with apparent patience, but he knew better. Ian was never patient about anything, least of all sex, but Ian knew him rather well by now and was willing to play his game. He straddled the sturdy hips and took the velvet heat inside himself. Ian gasped.

For a moment he had to hold still, waiting until the sensation of being uncomfortably wide open faded a little. His body relaxed slowly, moulding itself around the welcome intrusion. He leaned forward, supporting himself on outstretched arms. No cuddling, no kissing… Ian would be completely gobsmacked if he ever tried it, so he wouldn't.

Finally the moment came when he knew they were both ready, could not last a second longer. He began to move, rising along the thick shaft and sliding smoothly back down. Ian lay beneath him, unmoving but certainly not unmoved. It allowed him to position himself at the perfect angle to give them both maximum enjoyment. Self opinionated and determined he might be, but Ian knew very well when to defer to an expert. He laughed softly at the thought.

Ian's eyes were drooping closed, the big body almost purring with satisfaction. There would be no fireworks tonight, but this was almost as good. He quickened the pace, his nerves set afire by each brush of Ian's cock against his prostate. His cock, he realised suddenly, was being stroked with firm precision and on that thought he almost lost the rhythm. He tried to recover, but it was already too late. He began to climax and deliberately clenched his muscles around the hardness within him. Ian groaned, a rich deep sound of passion, as his body surged upwards in great, mindless thrusts.

It was a while before they settled, side by side, with all the messy details taken care of. He propped himself up on his elbow and stared down at Ian. One eye opened a tiny crack. "You did that rather well, I thought."

It was a mild enough comment, but Ian's eye closed again. "I have had plenty of practice."

"Oh?" His eyebrow slid up into an elegant arch. Wasted on the intended recipient, who was completely ignorant of it.

Ian grinned, eyes still closed. "No…" he sounded offended. It was an act; Ian was remarkably difficult to offend. "On myself. I do masturbate you know. Most people do."

"Really?" The laughter in his voice gave him away. "I'm glad to hear it. At least I won't have to worry about you taking on a small army of catamites while I'm away."

"You're off again? You've only been back five minutes." Ian, contrary as ever, seemed eager to talk instead of rolling over and going to sleep like any sane man. His eyes were open now, and curious.

He dropped down beside Ian and inhaled the musky, sweaty scent of him. "New York, remember? Chicago. DC. San Francisco…" he allowed his voice to become dreamy. "All those luscious beach boys…"

Ian regarded him tolerantly. Not a shred of jealousy, damn it. "You will be careful, won't you?"

"Naturally." He stroked a bicep thoughtfully. Sometimes he'd do that, and Ian never objected to the small intimacy. "And so will you, I hope. No heart attack while I'm gone?"

"I would never dream of having a heart attack while you were out of the country." Ian smiled, his voice deepening; drowsy at last.

He watched as his lover (though Ian would never think of himself as that) drifted into sleep. A difficult week indeed, if he had got so clingy. Being with Ian could be a frightening experience sometimes. Not for the first time, he cursed the masochistic streak in him that led him to have a penchant for straight men, and for this straight man in particular. And knew, as he did, that he would never willingly change a thing.

 

 


End file.
